My Little Man
by S. C. Hardy
Summary: James Potter has a late night conversation with his two month old son, Harry.


**Just something I whipped out in about two days…I actually thought about the first couple of pieces of dialogue and I _had _****to write it down. So, from there, "My Little Man" came. It's cute, fluffy _fluffy_**** cute. It's a father son story, but Harry doesn't talk, lol. Okay, have fun, and review! It's really easy, ;-) **

**My Little Man**

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

"James."

"Hmm…"

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

"_James_." 

"Hmm…"

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

"James _Randall _Potter. If you don't get up and take care of your only, crying, _helpless _child, I _solemnly swear _that I will snap your broomstick in two, and I _don't _mean the one in the shed."

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

"Oy, I'm up, didn't you hear me say I'm up?"

"No, I didn't. _Go. NOW._"

"Yes, McGonnagal."

"_Broomstick, _James Randall."

"Alright, alright." 

He grumbled something else under his breath, and thanked what ever was looking down on them that Lily did not hear it. Without his glasses on, the room was very dark and very blurry, but with a searching hand racing over his nightstand, he found the square shaped spectacles and wand. 

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

James Potter turned around to glare at his wife, but all that he was able to see of her was her back and billowing red hair on his pillow; he had a feeling that he wasn't going to get it back for the rest of the night. 

Mumbling again, he shuffled out of his bedroom and across the hall to the nursery where the two month old Harry James Potter laid, screaming with his very small, but very powerful lungs.

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

The wallpaper of the room was covered with the four balls of Quidditch on a clear blue sky. James had wanted to charm all of the balls to zoom around the walls, but Lily had insisted that the constant movement would give Harry motion sickness. Harry's crib was under a window on the opposite side on the room, and James immediately saw what was causing his son to scream.

A branch from the tree outside was scraping against the panes, and even to James, the scene would have been frightening at first. Rushing to the crib, the spectacled man pointed his wand at the branch, and immediately, it fell to the ground with a _thump._ Of course, the sound made little Harry scream with even more fright.

James sighed softly and leaned his elbows on the side of the crib, to look down at his son before he tried to calm him. He pitied the poor child, his wild black locks already resembled his, and he knew that for the rest of his life he would not be able to tame it. 

No tears came out of Harry's eyes, actually, the bright green orbs of the little baby's stared up at his father as his mouth released another wail,

"_Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"_

The kid was just screaming for the hell of it, it seemed.

"Oy Harry, how's my little man tonight?" James asked, poking his son's tiny nose with a single finger. He watched as Harry's eyes crossed to follow the finger, and laughed quietly at the sight. Amazingly, as the tyke opened his mouth for a scream, his lips turned into a smile. James' eyes widened, and he smiled as well, watching a smile grow on his son's face for the first time ever. 

"Got the smile of a celebrity!" he whispered, and with that, Harry's smile turned into a frown, ready to scream again. "Oh…no Harry, please don't cry." James pleaded, reaching in and lifting his son up into his arms. The baby hadn't made a sound as of yet, but his face was cringed as if he was warming up.

Not really thinking, James stuck out his tongue, wiggling it in the moonlight that was streaming into the room. Harry made a funny noise, though his father swore it was a giggle. 

"Yay…I made Harry laugh…" he said softly, rocking his son in his arms. "Haven't done that for your mum, right?" 

Harry wiggled his nose and James continued,

"Oh, I know you haven't, you don't have to answer. Lily would have sent everyone she's ever met an owl telling him or her about it. We're still getting responses from the first time you hiccupped." 

The baby's eyes fluttered, but he seemed eager to keep them open.

"You can go to sleep if you want, I'll be here in the morning." James said, noticing his son's tired eyes. But Harry's emerald eyes stayed open, and his father couldn't help but feel a little warmth at the attention he was receiving from his son. 

"Alright…do you want to hear a story? I doubt you'll understand anything I have to say, but it'll be fun anyway." James rocked Harry a few more times before he sat in Lily's favorite rocking chair (it had belonged to her mother). 

"Let's see…want to hear about Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs? One blink for no, two for yes." Amazingly, Harry blinked twice, whether he knew it or not, "Ah, wonderful. Well, there are a lot of stories about them…but I guess my favorite would have to be…" James chuckled at the images filling his head, "the time we made Snape a Gryffindor. 

"Oh…that _reminds _me_. Harry_, that grease-ball is _teaching_ at Hogwarts! _Ewww _(sounding like a nine year old little boy talking about kissing a girl)!" 

"I hope he realizes that no one will _ever_ take him seriously as a teacher and quits before you get to Hogwarts, he'd probably take points from you and your friends every class. Take points from all the Gryffindors, probably. 

James looked down at his son, his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. He examined the baby's face, and slicked some of Harry's hair to the side of his head, grinning at how silly the boy looked,

"You going to be a Gryffindor, Harry? Best house, in my own humble opinion. Both your parents lived in The Lion's Den, bet one day you'd like to too. Another house wouldn't be bad, though, we'd still love you of course, just remember that Gryffindor's the best," he said with a wide smile. 

"Oy, you've got to go and play Chaser for them, I heard the team's been stinking up the place, though that Weasley fellow _is_ pretty good…

"Ah, you'll be Captain by your fifth year, I bet. I'll tell Uncle Sirius, and we'll make a deal. He'll probably say you'll be _playing _by _first_ year, but old McGonnagal would never in a hundred years allow that. But hey, who knows, you're a Potter, after all. Padfoot will probably take all the credit if that happens." 

Harry's eyes seemed to light up at the sound of his godfather's name, and James seemed quite amused at this,

"Oh, so you love your godfather, huh? Padfoot your favorite uncle? Moony and Wormtail won't be happy with that, but I suppose it was inevitable. He _does _spoil you rotten. Every time he comes over he has a new toy for you, and he's over almost every day!

"That man can't _wait _to take you on a ride on that…_thing_ of his." James shook his head, looking dismal. "He's going to break his neck on that thing, he'll have to kill me before I let you on that. Though your mother _was_ about to rip me to shreds when she saw I had taken you up for a ride on my old Nimbus 1050…how could she wish that her two favorite men ride a bloody Bluebottle instead?" 

"I know you loved that, I saw the wideness of your eyes and I heard the weird noises you were making. You're going to be a natural flyer, I can tell already." James lifted Harry up in front of him, holding the baby under his arms, his chubby legs dangling out from his light green baby…suit…thing (James couldn't recall what they were called). "Though you're a bit scrawny for a Chaser…Seeker, perhaps?" 

Harry yawned at this, his eyes fluttering closed. James smiled, happy to have put his son to sleep. He held the little one close to him again, kissing him on the forehead and rocking him a few more times in the chair before he was ready to place him back in bed. The father made sure that no more of the tree's branches would get near the window, and he closed the shade with a simple flick of his wand. James had always loved how he could hold Harry in one arm while he used his wand in the other…he worried about the day when his son wouldn't be small enough to do that. 

"Here we go…" he whispered, placing Harry on his stomach, like Lily had told him to. The little boy was now breathing softly, his tiny fists curled and his incredibly small socks almost slipping off his petite toes. James bit his tongue at the overall cuteness of his son as he fixed the socks (they had a little snitch on the outside ankle). 

With a wave of his wand he placed a warming spell on the crib, making Harry as comfortable as possible. James didn't want to make a sound, and he didn't want to disturb the baby's slumber, but he couldn't help but remain leaning on the crib, just watching the boy sleep. 

"You're going to be a cool guy, Harry," he whispered, softly pushing down some of the baby's hair, "no matter _what_, okay? No matter if you're in Slytherin, if you can't fly a broomstick, or even if you have to wear thick glasses like your dear old dad. You're going to be _such_ a cool guy, a great friend too. I hope you make friends like your mum and I did, cause they'll be the best things that ever happened to you.

"And be nice, Harry, even to the Slytherins, it's okay. You'll be the better person if you don't send a hex their way…unless they do something to deserve it." The infamous glint of Prongs shone in James' eyes.

"Listen to Dumbledore," a grim expression fell onto his face, "if it wasn't for him…I don't think you'd be here right now. I'm sorry you have to live in such a bad time, Harry, but it'll be okay, I promise. Your mum and I will protect you with everything we have…because…well, you _are _our world."

James tilted his head and suddenly smiled at his son, brushing Harry's hair one more time,

"Ah, why am I bothering you with this? You're only a baby. What does a baby need to know about Voldemort and his bloody Death Eaters? You don't worry about a _thing_…well, worry about spitting up on the right people, that'll be hilarious if you do it on Snape or something, though I don't know _why _you'd be in _his _arms.

"Good night, Harry, see you in the morning." 

He crept out of the room and into his so quickly that Lily didn't even move at the motion of the bed. James wiggled himself under the covers, found his wife's body, wrapped one arm around her waist, and buried his head in the back of her neck,

"I love you," he whispered into her hair, "I love you and Harry _so_ much." 

Lily moved against him, and though still very asleep, James was sure that she heard him. He didn't need to have her respond, he knew that right in this moment, no matter what was going on outside of his house, that his life was perfect, and that he couldn't have asked for anything else. 


End file.
